My Impossible Girl
by gallifreyan.hats
Summary: The Doctor and Clara get thrown into a whirlwind of events in the Doctor's past. With strange clues in every place they go to, they must discover the secret at the end of the road. [Whouffle.] [Incomplete. No more updates due to lack of ideas for the continuation of this story. Sorry!]
1. Past Days I

**A/N**

**So basically, this story is where Clara and Eleven actually have a thing for each other. Their relationship will develop as the story goes along.**

**Follow the story for more. And I'd really appreciate it if you take the time to review the story. Thanks :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC's Doctor Who or any of the characters.**

Clara was in the guest bedroom at the Maitland's, a family friend's. She currently resided there, temporarily a sort of nanny for their kids.

She sat at her desk, still in her pajamas, on her blue notebook computer. Busy still with the task she was working on with her computer, Clara didn't notice the whizzing, whooshing sound of the TARDIS materializing. 

* * *

The Doctor walked out of his TARDIS, up to the front door, and rang the doorbell several times. He was dressed neatly, especially neatly this time, more than normal. He looked at his teeth in his reflection caused by the window and straightened his bow tie.

Peering into the window, he didn't see Clara. He rang the doorbell again, then knocked. "Clara?"

A figure in pajamas and tied-back brown hair came rumbling down the stairs and then proceeded to open the front door.

"Clara!" The Doctor grinned and did that thing with his hands.

Clara opened the door, a bit drowsy still as it was only 10 AM. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?"

The Doctor was still smiling. "Well, are you coming or what?"

"Well, you're a bit excited about this thing that you expect me to come along." Clara studied him for a second, leaning against the door frame with one hand. "Wait... What _are_ you so happy about?"

"Um.." The Doctor rushed his hands through his hair a bit nervously while looking at his reflection in the window again. Then he looked at Clara seriously. "Well, I was gonna let you decide, obviously."

"Yeeeaahhh..." Clara crossed her arms, still leaning on the doorframe. She raised her eyebrows.

"Well get dressed, then!"

"I'm busy!"

"Yes, and I can make sure you get whatever it is that needs to be done finished by the time you need it to be completed."

"Hmph." Clara turned around and began to walk up the stairs. "Fine!" She finally gave in, secretly craving the thrill of adventure. She smiled to herself.

* * *

Clara entered the TARDIS, where the Doctor was waiting for her, reading a book while sitting on some stairs. "Okay, where are we off to, then, Doctor?"

He jumped up and placed his book in his interdimensional coat pockets. He walked up the stairs to the "second level" (not really a second level, but it is) and picked out another book from his bookshelf. "How about Barcelona, or ancient Egypt, or anything in between." He placed the book back on the shelf and walked back down the stairs.

Clara thought of something, and took the opportunity to suggest it. "Or.. maybe 19th century Paris.." She paused for a second, edging closer to the console where the Doctor was fiddling with the settings and coordinates.

"Why Paris? Ooh, wait, nevermind, hold on." The Doctor finally made a decision. He pulled the lever and the TARDIS dematerialized, then landed a few moments later. "How about this?" He walked out of the doors, Clara following.

The Doctor looked around. "Oh. Whoops." It was actually an asteroid, quite close to a yellow dwarf star, like the sun. Clara wasn't outside yet thankfully, or she would have been blown to bits. The TARDIS decided it wouldn't shield the Doctor.

"Wow, thanks, Sexy! Why do I even call you that, you rude old thing?" The Doctor yelled as he ran inside, trying to fan off his frizzled and half-way burnt hair. He hit, though not hard, the TARDIS's uppy-downey thing. The ship responded with a strange noise and some sparks went off on the console.

"Sexy? Is that really what you call her? Wow, you're like one of the guys who obsess about their cars or somethin'." Clara noticed his hair. She raised her eyebrows.

Before Clara could say anything, the Doctor put a finger over her lips and said, "No, don't say anything. Wait, yes, how bad is it?"

"Looks like it hurt." She touched his hair. "Wow."

"Yeah, well, it did, thanks." He entered different coordinates and pulled the lever. Then he rushed off into the varying hallways of the TARDIS.

"Where're you going?" Clara yelled after him, then decided that it would be best to just wait for him. She stepped around the console, trying to figure out what a certain Z-shaped thing was exactly. The ship lurched, although very little, as she played with it.

She heard the Doctor from somewhere in the TARDIS. "Did you touch something?"

Clara replied, casually lying. "Nope! Not at all!" She continued to observe the console, sometimes pressing buttons.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

* * *

The Doctor was busy in his bathroom trying to tidy his hair or do at least _something_ to make it not look like Albert Einstein sciency hair. He'd dumped it in water, trimmed it, then decided (since those all failed to magically repair his hair) to shave it off.

Rummaging for something to put on his now-bald head, he came across several different hats and wigs in his wardrobe.

"No, no, a fez just won't do without hair... oh god, I forgot I even had this; still need to give it back to the dear old fellow... Oh, yes!" He finally came across a look-alike of his hair, or at least something strangely very close to it. "Wait, how did this get here? Oh, who cares!" He went in front of a mirror and checked it out, then put it on his head. "Yeah, who cares, it's got a zipper in the back!" He posed in front of the mirror, still talking to himself and doing weird things. The Doctor then adjusted his hair and went back to the control room.

When the Doctor entered the room, Clara was reading one of the Doctor's books from his bookshelf on the second level.

"Right. Okay. Out of the time vortex, back to—" The Doctor was cut off and lurched backwards, as was Clara pushed backwards against the bookshelf. The Doctor grabbed hold of the rails. "Whoooaaa!"

Clara screamed as she grabbed hold of the rails. "IS THIS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN?"

"NoOOO!" The TARDIS shaked again, traveling at super-fast speeds through the vortex.

"IT'S A PARADOX!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

"TELEPATHIC CIRCUITS AND A VERY ANGRY TARDIS MATRIX!"

"CIRCUITS OF WHAT!?"

"NeverMIIINNNNDDD!" The TARDIS shook for the last time and landed.

The Doctor stood up, Clara walking down the silvery, metal stairs. She straightened out her clothes and patted down her tousled hair. "That was one hell of a ride."

"Yeah." The Doctor cautiously went over to the TARDIS doors, Clara right behind him. She took hold of his hand.

"Yeah.. so? What happened?" Clara looked up at the Doctor for an answer.

"I don't know, but we've landed." He looked back at her. "Let's find out." They went out the doors.

* * *

The sun was blindingly bright, reflecting off of the sand on the ground. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the scene of a Western town. The Doctor reached into one of his pockets and took out a pair of sunglasses.

"You got another pair of those?" Clara asked, attempting to shield her eyes from the sun in the cloudless blue sky with her hand.

The Doctor reached into the same pocket as before. His whole forearm was inside what seemed like a normal-sized pocket in his purple frock coat. He pulled out another pair of aviators. "Aha, yes, okay. Here." He gave them to Clara, who then put them on.

"Okay, so.." Clara began walking around, observing the town. There was a big sign that read "Tombstone" on the side of the road by what appeared to be the sheriff's jail.

"Tombstone.. Haven't I heard that somewhere before?" The Doctor scrunched his eyebrows together in concentration.

Then the TARDIS began dematerializing without them inside.

The Doctor immediately jumped out of his thoughts as he heard his ship. "Noooo, no no no noooo!" He ran towards it, somehow hoping to make it not go away, but it dematerialized anyway, away from his grasp. "Arrrghhhh!" He stressed out loud.

"Doctor, where did it go?" Clara asked urgently, a bit scared. He didn't respond, for he was thinking, his back turned away from Clara toward where the TARDIS was. "Doctor? Is it going to come back?" The Doctor stood there for a while before answering.

"No, no.." The Doctor couldn't believe this was happening. He shook his head.

"No? What do you mean, no? Can't you do something?" Clara asked, a bit angry now.

He scanned the area with his screwdriver, then took out his key and tried to see if he could summon the TARDIS that way.

The Doctor slowly turned around to face Clara. "No. We're stuck here. I don't know for how long." He walked closer to her, with a serious look on his face. "But I do know that I will try to get the TARDIS back."

* * *

"So this, this town, huh? Are we in America, then?" Clara was walking with the Doctor down the street in the town. Buildings were laced along either side of the street, with horses and wagons tied to fence-posts with water troughs beside them. Good thing she had dressed in a skirt and a short-sleeved, thin shirt without leggings or anything, because it was hot out here.

"Yes, we are. And we are stuck. So we'll need a place to sleep for the night." The Doctor walked alongside her. He was in a better mood now, although not all recovered from the incident yet.

"Ughh, I hope the inns don't have bugs in them or somethin'." She shivered just thinking about it.

"Yeah, the movies portrary the 'wild west' as all nice and stuff, but in reality they are pretty.. er, disgusting. Right. I think this inn should be.. okay." He pointed to the inn that was just titled "The Last Chance Saloon". Really. What a cool name. (Lame!)

"Sounds great." Clara said sarcastically. She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders.

The Doctor noticed this and tried to be reassuring. "Oh, we'll be fine."

They had arrived at the doors of the saloon/inn by the stairs that led to the porch around the front of the wooden building.

"We'll be fine.." The Doctor repeated, more for himself than for Clara. He pushed open the doors.

"Umm, okay." The Doctor said as he found that he and Clara had interrupted some kind of shooting going on. A man with dark hair was holding a line of 4 people, one of them a woman, at gunpoint.

Everybody turned to look at the Doctor. "And who might you be?" The young man with the dark hair asked the Doctor and Clara in a British accent.

Clara's eyes widened. Why would someone back in these days still have their British accent if they moved to America? Or... could they? No, impossible! Clara thought to herself. Simply impossible.

The Doctor still didn't remember. He had pushed this memory all the way to the back of his mind. He was very, very old after all. "I'm the Doctor." He said confidently, expecting a reply. "You?"

The Doctor watched as the young man's eyes widened. "But no, that's impossible! You can't be the Doctor!"

The Doctor was confused for a moment. He went closer to the young man and looked closely at him, even going so far as to sniff him like the weird person he is. The young man watched with wide eyes, though a bit weirded out as well.

The Doctor backed away to a confused Clara.

"Doctor?" Clara asked.

"Nope, still not getting it. I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you all, and please, if you wouldn't mind, put the gun away! Guns are bad. That's why I use a screwdriver instead!" He grinned, clapping his hands together.

Clara was already used to this, but nobody else in the room knew him like she did.

"What?" Somebody in the line of people, with a stetson on his head, asked in disbelief.

The Doctor patted the young man on the shoulder. "Okay, we're just gonna get a room now."

"Two rooms, actually, Doctor." Clara reminded him.

"Oh yes, yes, sorry, Clara." The Doctor went up to the counter where the owner of the place, also a bartender, was organizing shot glasses. "Two separate rooms, please." The Doctor leaned on the counter. He took a toothpick out of his pocket and put it in his mouth half-way, chewing on it.

The bartender took out an old, leather-bound book. Smacking his lips in distaste at a stain from the bottom part of a glass, he opened it and looked through it. It took a few seconds, but finally, after a lot of licking of the tips of his fingers to flip pages, he found the most recent records of who booked what room. "Sorry, sir, but we're booked. We've only got one room left, if that's alright with y'all."

If Clara was happy at all, then all of the tiny happiness she had left quickly vanished. "Fine, we'll take it." She said, disappointed.

The Doctor of course didn't really care, since he didn't sleep much. Clara could have the bed.

* * *

"Ugh." Clara grunted. "I guess it's better than nothing." She plopped straight on the bed, her arms spread out. "I'm tired."

The Doctor sat on the other side of the creaking bed in the small room and began taking out enough wires to compact into a small device.

"So what was that all about downstairs, then?" Clara said in a low voice since she was pretty tired.

"Dunno." The Doctor thought he was beginning to remember something.. something he should have known!

Clara heard the Doctor's sonic screwdriver buzzing. She rolled over on her side, facing away from the Doctor, and looked out the window. Night was falling, and the first few stars were already out. She fell asleep to the assuring sound of his sonic screwdriver.

* * *

Clara woke up drowsily. She smelled something burning. She stood up quickly, which was definitely a bad idea because it made her dizzy. "Doctor?" No answer. "Doctor!?"

"Yes, yes, what is it?" She heard a voice coming from the stairs leading to the level their room was on.

The Doctor had arrived just in time to see a sudden appearance of some sort of black smoke. He analyzed it with his screwdriver.

Clara's eyes became wider and she began to cough as the smoke filled the room. The Doctor coughed too, but advised Clara to not breath the smoke. She grabbed the nearest cloth she could find, which happened to be a red handkerchief, and tied it around her face from her nose to her neck. There was a crack of sound, like thunder, that shook the room a tiny bit.

The Doctor reached through the smoke and to the other side of the room by the bed and grabbed Clara's hand, pulling her out of the room. He shut the door, locking it with his screwdriver. "Somebody's trying to kill us."

Clara pulled down the handkerchief from her face. "Kill us? For what?"

"I don't know, but," the Doctor held up his screwdriver, the metal tips at the end flicked open,"that gas was deadly."

"Okay, then? That door isn't airtight!" Clara said urgently, almost yelling.

"Oooh, right. Oh. Umm..!" The Doctor flailed around a bit, then decided to grab Clara's hand and run down the stairs.

Clara stopped him near the foot of the stairs. "I know this isn't the time, but if we're gonna die then I just want to tell you that I.. erm, really quite fancy you."

The Doctor's face went red as a brick. "What! What are you sa—"

Clara kissed him before he could finish his sentence.

The Doctor was quite alarmed by this, although once or twice he thought about Clara in this way. Well, maybe a couple of more times than that. Okay, a lot, but not all the time!

At that particular moment, a peculiar old man dressed in plaid pants and an old-fashioned bow-tie was walking up the stairs, not expecting such a display of affection to occur right in front of him. He gripped the sides of his 20th century coat. Sternly in a British accent, he exclaimed, "Excuse me? How disrespectful of you!"

The Doctor and Clara broke away. "Um, right." The Doctor's memories came rushing back to him. He stared at the old man seriously. "You must be the Doctor. Me, of course, but not me yet! Hehe, had a great chat with Steven and Dodo this morning! I missed those two; haven't seen them in centuries! Okay, gotta go, bye." The Doctor grabbed Clara's hand and ran past the younger Doctor without touching him (otherwise a paradox would occur).

Before running out the door, the Doctor yelled to his younger self, "Don't worry, you'll understand when you're—" Clara whispered a "come on!" to the Doctor, pulling him along. "—older!"

**A/N**

**In an alternate time stream where the Doctor shaved his head because it got burnt from the solar winds from a star on an asteroid with no atmosphere and very low gravity.**

**So.. This is like a paradox sort of thing — Eleven meets the First Doctor. This is from an actual Classic Who episode **_**The Gunfighters**_** that was really funny, but had really bad American accents. The only reason I liked it was because it was funny. But anyway, the point of this first story is to be comedic but still romantic. I have mixed things up a bit, but it's all good. And they will leave this town soon, actually. You'll see in the next chapter. Spoilers!**


	2. The Almost Death II

**A/N**

**I advise you to listen to the Doctor Who soundtrack while reading this story. It will make it more epic and give you chills, I promise.**

**Remember to review and follow for more! Thanks xx**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC's Doctor Who or any of the characters.**

"So you've got a plan, yeah? Tell me you have a plan." Clara was exhausted from running. She and the Doctor had run down the street, then left, then right, and now the Doctor found what he was looking for. Currently they were in between three buildings, creating a sort of alleyway in deep shadows.

"Yes, of course I have a plan!" The Doctor straightened his bow tie, then took out the device he was working on in the inn.

"What's that for?" Clara was half-way squatting, her lungs still burning from the lack of oxygen.

"It's a thing. For locating alien things that shouldn't be here."

"What, like you?"

"Yeah, except I've programmed it _not_ to count me as an alien thing." The Doctor adjusted the wires inside the tiny black steampunk-looking device, attempting to get some sort of signal from advanced, alien technology.

His eyes brightened with enthusiasm. "Oooh, I've found something!" He started running, using the device as a thing to tell him where to go. He giggled quietly.

"Wait, Doctor!" Clara yelled, still slightly out of breath from before. Fortunately for her, the Doctor's signal led him to a brick wall, blocking his path. He tried going around it, but ultimately the device pointed at that certain area. Clara caught up.

"Hey!… What is it?" She caught her breath, suddenly curious.

"It's… I don't know, Clara. Maybe it _is_ the wall.. or something inside this building. Plus, all the other buildings are wooden, but this wall," he put his hand on the wall, "it's the only brick structure in this entire town."

Both Clara and the Doctor were stumped. After a few moments of pondering the situation, a startling voice boomed, like the sound came from a gigantic speaker.

"_Come along, dearest companion! Doctor, Doctor, the clock is ticking, it'll stop, then you'll both be dead!"_ The voice was male, but was taunting enough to make both Clara and the Doctor afraid.

The Doctor whizzed out his screwdriver. "Okay.. Apparently only us and those around us could hear that."

"Doctor, who was that?"

"I'm not sure. But," He knocked on the brick wall and put his ear against it, "let's find out." He took Clara's hand and, with his sonic, opened a secret door that was disguised as a normal part of the brick wall.

"Wait. You said only we and those around us could hear that voice, yeah? So what if we're inside some sort of bubble?" Clara inquired. They continued to walk, holding hands, through the stone corridor. It was lit by very few torches, making the place dim.

The Doctor glanced at Clara. "That," he noted, "is an excellent idea. Good thinking." He took out his screwdriver. "Actually, I'm going to check." He scanned Clara. "Nothing. Hmm.. I wonder.."

While the Doctor was distracted with his own thoughts, Clara was looking straight ahead. "Doctor." Her voice waved a little. "Doctor!"

The Doctor looked at Clara. "What?"

"What's that?" Clara pointed at the frightening thing. It was in one of the darker parts of the corridor, the part where it was almost pitch-black. There were red eyes and a strange, crusty noise like the one a bug might make with its claws and outer shell.

The Doctor looked where Clara was pointing. He saw the red eyes, too. "Oh. That's nothing." He shrugged the matter off.

"Doctor! Then what's that!?" The creature in the dark began to move, revealing its true identity. Suddenly, the walls around them began to collapse to form more floor area. It's like the building was way bigger on the inside. With the collapsing walls went the torches, so now there was no light. There was only the luminescent red eyes in the seemingly vast darkness.

Clara's mouth was open, astonished at what she just saw. But it wasn't as weird as much of the other stuff she had seen before, so she recovered quickly.

Clara held the Doctor's hand more fiercely. "How come it collapsed the walls?" She whispered in the Doctor's ear.

"I don't know, but I don't think it wants us to see it. It probably has an advantage in the dark." The Doctor held up his sonic screwdriver like a weapon. He tried to turn on some kind of light with his screwdriver, but it was like every single torch had disappeared. Well, every single torch _did_ disappear.

Then there were clicking noises. Like bug clicking. Except then, the monster in the dark revealed a ray of light, shining specifically on Clara and the Doctor.

Then all the lights came on. Except this time, they were in a white, modern room with electric lights that were far more advanced than they should be in this time period.

"Intriguing.." The Doctor observed the room, no longer holding hands with Clara. She was looking at the robot in the center of the room. Unexpectedly, it didn't do anything to either of them.

The Doctor ran right up to the robot. It didn't attack or anything. He scanned it and the surrounding area with his screwdriver, getting strange readings. "We aren't even on Earth anymore. We're in orbit."

"That's weird. How?"

The Doctor scanned the threshold of the door, walking up to it. "It's a portal.. Through both space and time, Clara. We're in the future, well.. your time. 2012. August." Amy and Rory's time. When they were still alive. The Doctor remembered this. The distraught expression on his face showed all.

"Doctor? Are you okay?"

Then, the same booming voice as before: "_Come along, Ponds!"_ It purposely mocked the Doctor. Like it wanted something out of him.

The Doctor's eyes went wide, and a tear slid out. His visage suddenly turned darker. Yelling, "Who are you!? What do you want!?"

No response.

Clara stood a distance away from the Doctor. She honestly didn't know why he would be so sad or even angry.

Then, out of the blue, a red laser shot out from the robot, and Clara disintegrated into dust. The Doctor was caught off guard. He ran up to what appeared to be Clara's remains. "No, no, no, NO!" He screamed. "Why.. WHY!?" First the jeering remarks from the strange, booming voice, and now this! "Clara!" He was crying at this point.

After a few moments, he stood up, his face showing deep contempt for the person, or thing as it should be called, who did this. He would do whatever he could to reverse this moment just so she could be right beside him again as his dearest companion. He was really starting to develop feelings for her. It was like every single time he fell in love with someone, they were taken from him. Everyone he ever loved was taken from him. His hearts were torn in two, a new scar amidst the hundreds of old ones. If he couldn't get Clara back, it would be like it was with Rose: the scar would never fully heal, leaving a huge, gaping hole in his hearts.

Right then, right there, he decided this wasn't going to be like before. He had to get her back, no matter what it would take.

The Doctor looked one more time at the pile of dust. He spotted a corner of a piece of paper under Clara's remains. Picking it up, he realized it was a clue. He read it eagerly.

_Something must live,_

_ Something far away._

_ Pass this along,_

_ And you'll get your treasure._

This was cold. The Doctor assumed this was about Clara. She wasn't a thing, or object, to be classified as treasure! She was a person, and a beautiful, lovely person, who had helped the Doctor in so many ways.

He took out his sonic again, and attempted to find a teleport frequency so he could get to the main control system of this ship. It turned out, he was on a single pod, while the control ship was 380,000 kilometers away. The moon. He found the frequency and vanished from the small pod.

The Doctor landed unsteadily on his feet, almost falling over. "Whoa!" He eventually balanced himself. He found himself in an area with lush, green grass on all the walls and floor, but not the ceiling. The ceiling was covered in vines. He breathed in the air, which was strangely hypnotic. He blinked several times, trying to keep himself in his right mind. His vision was a bit blurry.

Then, out of the four corners of the lush, grass-filled room, four strange, humanoid creatures seemed to come from nowhere. In a whispery, hypnotic voice, the one from the right door said, "_We need your help.._" It walked closer to the Doctor.

Then, the one on the left, "_Please.. Help us._"

The Doctor's vision was foggy, but then he told himself, Wake up, this isn't what it seems! Skeptical, Doctor, question everything!

He blinked again, and slapped himself. "Ow!" Now he was wide awake. This time seriously, he replied to the creatures that looked like humanoid trees, "What is this stuff you breath? It's terrible!" The air was filled with the gases that were specific only to these creatures. It didn't go well with humans or Time Lords.

The Doctor had stopped breathing in the air in the ship, relying on his bypass respiratory system. He had to get out in at least 20 minutes, or he would pass out from lack of oxygen.

"_It is necessary.._"

The Doctor looked around at possible exits.

"_Please.. Help us!_"

He had to help them, or he probably will not get a pass out of the doors. Thinking to himself, "Wait! That's what the _Pass this along_ meant in the riddle on the piece of paper I picked up! A _pass_ out of the doors, like I said!" Even though he wasn't sharing this out loud, he slapped himself again. For some reason.

The tree-like creatures tilted their heads in confusion.

"Right, what do you need help with?" He put his hands together like he always does.

The tree-like creatures led him through wide, grassy corridors, their steps soft on the ground. The Doctor thought there would probably be metal under the dirt and grass. Eventually, they led him to a chamber in which they refused to go in. The room, unlike the rest, was extremely foggy, full of pipes from wall to wall, and no grass or any plant-life was visible. The metal floor the Doctor walked on was bumpy, like a factory setting.

"Well? Are any of you going to tell me what needs fixing?" The Doctor asked.

At the entrance to the mechanical room, the aliens stayed behind, not daring to walk into the chamber. Two of the aliens were given gas masks by another of their kind, and then proceeded to walk in the chamber with the Doctor.

"_It isss poissssson to usss._"

"Right." The Doctor assumed that the air was deadly to them, so they had to have gas masks.

"_Followww.. ussss._ _We willll.. ssshow you.._"

The Doctor followed the tree aliens to a certain mechanism.

"_Fixxx it..._"

The Doctor observed the object, speaking as he tried to figure out its purpose. "Well, you could," he stood up straight to face the creatures, "as least tell me.." The creatures had all but disappeared. "..what this is." The Doctor's hands were clasped together. The sound of the doors shutting echoed throughout the chamber. Then the Doctor heard a click, which meant the doors were locked.

"Wait! No!" Oh, he had been so stupid. He always thinks the best of everyone! God. He ran up to the doors and slammed his fist on it multiple times. "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!? THIS IS A BAD IDEA!" The Doctor was starting to feel pretty tired now that he hasn't breathed in a while. Due to his talking and using his air, he estimated that he had no more than five minutes left to get out of this ship.

He went back to the device that needed fixing. Scanning it with his screwdriver, he realized it was perfectly fine. They had tricked him! It was the atmosphere in the ship that had caused him to be so delusional.

"Damn it!"

Okay, okay, maybe this could still lead him to clues about what really happened to Clara if he escaped. He needed some information from the ship's databases.

His vision began to blur now, and red and black spots riddled his vision. "Ughhh! No.. it's poisonous! It must be poisonous.." He searched for a way to get out of this place. He unlocked the door with his screwdriver (thankfully it wasn't made of wood! Also, it would have made a rubbish spaceship door), but still had to find a way out. The teleport beam that he used before wasn't working, as the aliens had shut off the wave frequency from their control room.

Control room! That's what he needed to find. And a gas mask, because he really didn't want to die.

Never mind not dying. The Doctor's left heart stopped beating because of the poisoned air. "Oww!" He grabbed that area of his chest because of the sudden pain and even more lack of circulation of oxygen. He was going to die even faster now!

He tried walking along the grassy corridors, stumbling. Clutching his left heart, he finally stumbled and fell face-first. "Please..." He breathed out as four of the aliens surrounded him. He tried taking in a breath of the air, even if it had poison in it. The air had a bit of oxygen in it, and he needed oxygen if he had even a chance of surviving. But it didn't help. He passed out.

_First the stars came, then the planets, then the black holes that ate everything they could.. Then a falling, falling Clara, who died but lived, who then died her final time in the white room, into dust, into dust… And Gallifrey burned.. And the Doctor and Clara went to Gallifrey, but then Gallifrey was destroyed once again.. Supernova from both the suns.. Burning, burning, dying, dying.. So many deaths… _

The Doctor took a deep gasp of air, breathing hard, sweat running down his face. As he realized that it was all a dream, he calmed himself down by taking a deep breath.

As everything came rushing back to him, the Doctor checked his left heart and realized it still wasn't beating. He was weak. But he wasn't in the ship any longer. Looking around, he found that he was in some sort of prison cell. There were bars barring him from getting out. They seemed a bit traditional and old-style, so he thought he could unlock the cell door with his sonic screwdriver, only to find that they, whoever his captors were, had taken his frock coat.

It was really dark. The Doctor could barely make out what was inside the prison cell, which included the bed he was on. Plus, he was weak, so his brain wasn't working properly.

He felt weird. His arm hurt, too. He felt his forearm and discovered that it had been cut into, then sewed back up. What? That _was_ weird.

"Sir, he's awake!" A young man's stern voice came from somewhere near the cell. The Doctor thought he saw a silhouette of a figure in a uniform.

Footsteps echoed all around the cell and outside of the cell, which disclosed to be a long corridor filled with other prison cells.

The other man arrived at the Doctor's cell and looked through the bars at him. "Bring him to the master."

"Master? What do you mean, _Master?_" The Doctor was suddenly alert with adrenaline.

The man's laughter echoed. "Oh, you'll see." He took the set of keys off his belt and unlocked the cell door. He roughly grabbed the Doctor, too weak to function correctly.

All the Doctor could think about as he was dragged out of his cell was Clara. He had a feeling that this master, whether it be _the_ Master or just anyone, killed Clara.

The Doctor was brought into a huge throne room. It's floors and walls were covered with intricately designed brown marble. His hands bound, he was thrown in the center of the floor, close to where the stairs that led up to the throne chair were.

"Untie his hands." A commanding voice sounded from the chair above the Doctor. The Doctor knew that voice.. he hadn't heard it in many centuries.

"But, sir, I have to protest—" The Doctor's captor was interrupted.

"Look at him! He's weak; can he do anything? No! Now untie him!"

The Doctor's face was looking at the floor. His head hurt.

The man unbound the Doctor's hands.

The Doctor waited until the man left, and, still on his knees, looked up. "Where's Clara?" That was the first thing he wanted to know. By looking up, he discovered that it was _the _Master that he was talking to — the last incarnation he saw, when he was only 906.

**A/N**

**The scene in spaceship is actually a dream I had, but I wasn't the Doctor; I was me, and continued to breath the air, which turned out to have a poison in it that was slowly killing me. I made a few modifications to the scene, as the tree creatures weren't trees in my dream.. I just didn't know how to describe them as they were in my dream. Anyway, it was weird. But, hey! dreams can be inspiration!**

**Well, anyway. I'm super excited about this! This chapter was going to be longer, but I want this story arc to be four chapters long. Because. I don't know, maybe because of a Time Lord's heart beat or something like that. Okay. Well, be sure to review and follow. Thanks for reading xoxo**


	3. Lost Again III

**A/N**

**Sorry. That was probably a horrible way to end a chapter without knowing if Clara is alive or not. Also, sorry it took so long to finally upload this chapter. My grandmother was in the hospital for weeks (she sadly passed away) and I'm doing cross country. And I have a dog to take care of now; he was my grandmother's. Basically, I'm tired and not very happy right now.**

**But I hope you enjoy what I've written so far 3**

**DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who is the property of the BBC, not me!**

"Doctor!" The Master greeted him, smirking.

"How do you know this incarnation?"

"Oh, please." The Master put his elbow on his luxurious chair and leaned his face on his hand. "The unyielding love for your companion? The weird dress sense? I mean, look at that bow tie! Come on, don't you see how obvious you can be at times?" The Master said tauntingly.

The Doctor's face became contorted with anger.

"What is it? Cat got your tongue, Doctor?" The Master raised his eyebrows.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Oh, what? Are you angry that I murdered (as you would put it) your little Amelia?"

"You didn't kill them. A weeping angel did. You killed Clara." The Doctor croaked out, weakening more every moment.

"Oh. I must have been a bit off. Oh well! It worked to get you here, anyway."

There was a pause.

"Well, aren't you going to ask why I did it?" The Master asked, amused.

The Doctor didn't reply, but looked straight into the Master's eyes defiantly; his shoulders were slumped and his knees on the ground, but his head was still held high.

"Fine. Don't ask. I'll tell you anyway." The Master sat comfortably in his chair. "I left you that piece of paper.. in, uh.. Clara's remains." Smiling, he paused, awaiting the Doctor's reaction.

The Doctor grimaced at her name.

"Aw, does it hurt?" The Master made a pouty face, though his eyes were filled with humor. "Well, anyway, I wanted what the Kacper had."

The Doctor assumed the Kacper were the tree people on the ship.

"But first I had to give them something else. And that happened to be you, Doctor." The Master smirked.

There was a faint hum of machinery and a strong smell of salt and fish in the air. Clara felt sand in her hands as she slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to remember what happened to her.

"Wha..? Where am I?" She sat up, picking up two handfuls of sand and letting it run through her hands and back to the ground again. Looking up overhead, she observed a bright blue sky. The horizon was the line between the sea and the sky.

Once she completely came to, she abruptly stood up, adrenaline and fear beginning to course through her pumping veins. Her feet and legs felt a bit wibbly wobbly for a moment which just helped the fact that she was feeling a bit nauseated and very, very scared.

She noticed that she was in between the sea and a cliff, so she decided to do the only thing that she could do: follow the cliff side. Maybe the cliffs led to somewhere she could actually climb up and get to solid dirt? Like a hill, instead of this foreboding precipice.

Where could she possibly be?

The Doctor was shoved back into his cell, landing on his hurt arm. "Ow!" He grimaced, pulling back his sleeve to examine the now-bleeding cut on his arm. He was already adjusting to the one heart, so the pain in his arm wasn't such a something that would add more pain to the pain that was already there because of the distress caused by only one heart pumping. He really needed to get that fixed.

As the Doctor's guard began to lock his cell door, he looked up. He decided quickly: whether he should sit here and find out more of the Master's plan and most likely be tortured for hours non-stop, or take control of the situation and get out of here? The Doctor chose the latter.

The key had only just begun to lock the cell door as the Doctor jumped on the guard, pushing the door open and tackling the guard. Since the guard was the only witness, the Doctor realized he could easily handle this situation. He put his hand over the guard's mouth before he could scream for help; and dug into the guard's pocket for a kind of tape. Duct tape. Seriously, has duct tape survived this long, so long that it's still in use in the far future? He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head.

He put the tape over the man's mouth and put him in the Doctor's now-former cell. Oh, how the tables have turned!

The Doctor hid behind a wall in the dungeon, checking ahead for anyone he would rather spend time trying to avoid. He spotted no one. Running along the corridor, he spotted a sort of locker room, except the clothes were on hooks. The clothes were the outfits the guards wore. Quickly, the Doctor put on the leather jacket and strapped it together. He heard boots clacking on the metal floor. But he saw his sonic screwdriver and tweed coat right then as he was beginning to leave. He took the screwdriver, stuffed it in his jacket pocket, but left the tweed coat. 'Tis sad to leave it, but he couldn't risk being found with such noticeable clothes, as the Master would put it.

Thinking that putting his bangs over his forehead would make it harder to see his face (and his absence of eyebrows, which would definitely give him away), he did so quickly and walked away from the locker room. He stuffed his hands in his pant pockets and looked at the ground as he passed the other guard who he had heard coming earlier. No word was said.

The Doctor realized that, because the guard was going toward his former cell, that he didn't have much time. They would realize that he was gone in just a few minutes.. Probably about 5 minutes if he could disable the alarm system.

He spotted it just as he was leaving the dungeon-like place, a big red square button that had the word _Alarm_ etched across the middle of it. There was a frame above it labeling procedures if something went wrong. For example, the Doctor escaping.

He pulled the alarm out of its socket and disabled the wires. "That should give me a few extra minutes." He heard running footsteps, and someone yelling, "He's escaped! Someone's escaped! The Doctor's gone!" There were two people. Damn it. He had to figure out how to get out of here, and fast.

As Clara was following the cliff face, she was analyzing her surroundings. So. There's a humming, like a machine humming. Was this a hologram, which would be powered by some sort of machine? Or was there a huge factory or power station nearby? Well, it could be both, or it could be neither.

Then she noticed a small square against the horizon ahead of her. Was that a.. hut? What is it?

Clara walked, trying her best to preserve her energy. Eventually her feet stopped at the door of the hut, whose roof was covered in straw over mud and whose walls were made of sturdy bamboo sticks. There were wooden steps, evidently made of palm tree, that led up to yet another wooden door. She knocked six times. She waited for a few minutes. No one answered, so she attempted to open the door, finding that it was unlocked. She furrowed her eyebrows as she continued to open the door.

"Hello? Anyone home?" A pause. Clara glanced around. "I'm comin' in." She closed the door behind her and continued to explore her new surroundings.

But as soon as she took two steps into the house, she felt a gun at her back. Her heart began beating out of her chest as she heard a child's voice, "Don't move or I'll shoot."

"Oh, hello. Didn't know anyone was home." She muttered nervously in a high-pitched voice, her hands up in surrender.

Then a radio buzzed, and the child spoke into it: "I found another outsider, sir."

Outsider? Was there a city or village or something on top of the cliffs? That was the first thought that crossed Clara's mind.

"Is that a radio you've got there?" Clara began. So there was someone else in charge? A better chance for a village existing, since there's more people. Also, the fact that there is a term called "outsider" probably means that a lot of people have developed the term into their language. Well, there's a better chance of it being a village rather than just a few people.

"Shut up. I'm not allowed to talk to outsiders." The child spoke. Clara guessed they were about 12 years old, judging by their voice.

Who would let a child look for "outsiders" (which Clara assumed were somehow dangerous, as there was a term for it), much less have a gun? And anyways, if what she thought was actually true, she knew she wasn't dangerous and she had to prove it.

Anyways.. where was the Doctor? Clara has been so busy trying to figure out where she was that she hadn't even thought about him until this moment. But as soon as she thought about him, she remembered: she kissed him! Oh god.. She kissed him in front of his younger self; he even said so, unless he was lying. Did he even like her back?

_This isn't what you need to be thinking about, Clara!_ She thought to herself, jumping back into reality.

After a minute or so, the walkie-talkie radio buzzed in again, making a fuzzy sound before another voice said out of it: "Alright, we're just outside. Bring them out."

_Okay, so there's definitely more people. There's two people outside, maybe three?_

The child spoke to Clara, "Okay, turn around; don't try to escape."

"I won't, th—" She couldn't help but add in some sarcasm at this moment.

"Shut up." The child, which Clara saw was actually a boy as she turned around, shoved the barrel of the rifle against the small of her back.

**A/N**

**Sorry once again. This is a short chapter, but I wanted to give everyone that's following me a little something. I said this part of the story would probably be about four chapters, but it'll probably turn out to be five since I decided to post this small amount as one chapter.**


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